about a boy...

Give me a sign…without the fine.

” I’m bad luck to be around”

“what, no, it’s not your fault.”

“every time we hang out something happens. not speaking about sex.”

“like what?”

“like what? they just towed your truck because I’m here. You got every single parking ticket due to me. you got pulled over, because of me. and for some odd reason i always accidentally hit you in the eye.”

he laughs in between a smile momentarily distracting himself from the current situation. tallying up what I mentioned knowing it’s all true, as if weighing if it was all worth it.

“hmm…you’re right.”

“yes, I am. now you owe $345 to get a truck out of the pound that isn’t even yours! because of me.”

“it’s ok.” again, momentarily distracting himself from the strain of bad luck that happened within 2 hours of  us having sex. A $345 night of passion between ex-lovers. He seemed to ride it off. he weighed it in front of me, as his eyes met mine.

I think I was worth it.

It wasn’t the time to smile but I couldn’t help myself in that moment. I was asking for signs left and right, and maybe this was one. the silver lining of the night; staying there. I quickly passed these thoughts to the corner to later be dwelled and analyzed upon. back to his eyes I went.

“by the way, thanks for the ride to my interview. again if you didn’t drive me, they wouldn’t have towed your truck.”


I had a job interview yesterday and the only one that came to my rescue was my “ex.” i just wasted my gas money on the previous interview, which seemed like a waste of time looking back, and no one cared enough to help me out or even stress that I am trying to get my life back. It would’ve taken 5 busses for me to get to the block of orange for my interview which broke down to at least 4 hours of brutal travel. For that amount of time I would’ve gone to Vegas, drank, and done incredibly stupid things.

I think the interview went fine, considering it’s the same company I worked for before in San Francisco, just different location. I’ll know within 3 days. After the stupidest questions to describe what I did in said situations and how much I can kiss a customers butt, I got a tour of the store. I applied extra chapstick that day.

I stuttered towards the end clicking my heels to push out the words stuck in my throat. She didn’t mind. The short, blonde, porcelain princess that was across from me smiled the whole time. I thought it was over but there was only a 2 minute break before the second manager came in to grill me like a cheese sandwich. Out of all the people I didn’t think this woman would be a familiar face. A washed out bubbly girl entered breaking the awkwardness that we know each other. Of course she was a former manager in my last store within the company. We never really saw eye to eye and I did my best to pucker up. Again, having the chapstick handy. She was the final say and I now worry about the longest 3 days of my life.

25 minutes passed and I went out to meet my ex and go on with our day. Again, in an attempt of trying to hold on to each other we developed some sort of friendship, or relationship that is a mutant with no name. We opened up on the ride back to his house and simply vented the insanity that we deal with daily.

I wore Oxford heels, tights, a black skirt and a leopard blouse that exuded my professionalism as well as the curves of my body. The occasion couldn’t have been more perfect. I had a reason to be dressed up and knew what I was doing to him.

His eyes followed my long legs when I lifted one on a chair  to dust my stockings after I got out of the truck. Our eyes met and we killed each other when we were inside. The countdown began.

His roommate killed the first half and I hung on by watching “Goodfellas.” One of my favorite mob movies. Finally getting rid of him we had the place to ourselves. He closed the door and pushed me on the couch. Our breaths held up the drumroll in our movements that were restricted all day. Everything built up exploded. Every back scratching, shoulder biting, thigh clenching scenario possible.

and in the end we cuddled. I tried not to over analyze, just feel, but still searched for my sign.

Then…they towed his truck.


because we couldn’t wait, and he parked it inside his complex without the permit.

I was worth $345.

I didn’t know what to say when his face dropped understanding that they just towed his stepfather’s truck. What kind of sign is this?

He didn’t get the bad luck that was happening to him all week and I didn’t get it either. All I knew was that I had no choice to spend the night in Ontario, to spend it in his bed. I didn’t want to be happy, but this little girl did cartwheels in my head.

The further I try to get away from him…the more tow trucks come into place, the more cops follow us, and a line of parking tickets connect us.

The message I received from this: People in uniform don’t like me.

Is this my sign?



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s